i promise i won't forget who you used to be
by clarembees
Summary: he's the architect of one of the most successful factions in recent wwe history, he just never imagined rebuilding her memory from scratch [established seth/paige]
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: [takes a deep breath] this is my first wrestling fic, so hopefully it works out. i was inspired by 'the vow' starring channing tatum and rachel mcadams and the head canon of ramenreignss for this pair, which you can find on her tumblr typhoidcandy obviously, i don't own any of the superstars or divas featured in this._

* * *

**~*~i promise i won't forget who you used to be~*~**

**prologue -**

_**there will come a time in your life when you become infatuated with a single soul. for this person you'd do anything and not think twice about it, but when asked why … you have no answer. you'll try your whole life to understand how a single person can affect you as much as they do, but you'll never find out. and no matter how badly you hate it or how badly it hurts … you'll love this person without regret, for the rest of your life.**_

_**anonymous -**_

A year and a half ago if you told Seth Rollins he _wouldn't_ be traveling from arena to arena with Roman and Dean, he would've told you to have your head examined. They _always_ traveled together. In either a black SUV or a black mid-sized car that they'd pick up from a rental shop in town. They didn't need fancy tour buses like Cena or limos like Evolution.

They just needed to get there.

But that was then, and this is now.

So instead of Dean incessantly tapping on the dashboard to the manic rhythm in his head or Roman snoring in the back, there are a pair of [surprisingly] dainty feet resting on the dashboard. Manicured toenails painted black just like her trimmed nails are revealed because at some point, she discarded the clunky Doc Martins she favored to wear with her street clothes.

He has to admit, lips curling slightly, the soft curve of her cheek and the gleam of her lip ring is a much more attractive sight than the masculine cut of Dean's chin and his messy curls that he's constantly pushing back.

"And I thought you staring at me while I slept was weird." There's teasing in her tone, and he shakes his head, grumbling, "That was _one_ time, and you had a concussion. I _wasn't_ watching you sleep, I was making sure you were all right. There's a difference."

"Suuuuuure," She elongates the word, the syllables rolling off her tongue, and the tip peeking out of her lush mouth catches his attention; his body warming at the sight.

_[boy, this is all for you, just walk my way/just tell me how it's lookin' babe/just tell me how it's lookin' babe]_

The strong bass of hip-hop comes through the radio's speakers, not the metal they prefer and as she lunges for the dial, he assumes she's going to fiddle until she finds a song more suited to their taste, instead she turns the volume louder.

He arches a curious brow, lips quirking in amusement as she begins singing along and swiveling her body in her seat.

_[high like treble, puffin' on them mids/the man ain't never seen a booty like this/and why you think my name keep rollin' off the tongue?]_

He stops at a red light, the hotel all the divas and superstars are staying at growing closer and closer, and now that they've stopped, he can turn his full attention on her. He laughs as she gets lost in her own little world, swiveling and moving her arms, singing growing just a little louder. His eyes are drawn to her hips, how they gyrate from side to side, and though she's not the curviest, what's there – the hint of flare – reminds him of how his hands can span the width of her entire waist and how _that's_ where she's her softest.

"Cameron and Naomi would be proud." He observes, large brown eyes growing just a hint darker.

"Ha-ha, ha-ha." She sticks her tongue out at him, resuming her dancing and singing.

Though, she had fun with the two funky divas after a house show back in London a year ago, this is a side of her most don't get to see. They see the fierce, driven, vicious side that she displays in the ring. The Anti-Diva. But _this _– the girl that's dancing and singing along to some hip-hop song – that's something she saves just for the select members of her inner circle.

And mostly him.

He's seen her without her signature black eyeliner, her raven hair twisted into a messy braid, slim but still strong frame drowning in one of his old Nightwish t-shirts. He knows she's seen every adaptation of Jane Austen's novels that have made it to the big screen. That _Love Actually_ is her favorite Christmas movie. That she's jealous of and longingly looks at the Chinese characters on the back of his neck – tracing them with reverence when they're alone – because she's afraid of needles, the only thing she's afraid of.

That even though she's tough, she still misses her family in Norwich, and tears are usually shed when she talks to her mom.

And when she hangs up, she glares – her doe eyes turning into harsh slits – as she makes him promise [again] not to tell anyone she cried. He always makes a show of zipping his lips and before she lets him kiss her, she makes him promise once more, threatening that 'i'll never let you Aussie kiss me again,' and now that he knows what _it_ means, he retorts with, 'isn't that more of a punishment for you than me?,' which always ends with a pillow being harshly thrown at his head.

_[we ain't gonna even make it to this club/now my mascara runnin', red lipstick smudged]_

* * *

In all of his internal musings, Seth didn't notice Paige had stopped her dancing. He didn't hear the click of her seatbelt, either. He felt the firm squeeze of his thigh through his jeans, however. Then he felt her warm breath against his ear and he was _definitely _aware of her slender fingers sliding along the waistband, teasing the stripe of skin that she found between where the hem of his shirt ended and his jeans began.

"Paige..." Her name was little more than a hiss leaving his lips.

_[oh he so horny, yeah he want to fuck/he popped all my buttons and he ripped my blouse]_

Somehow, he gained enough control of his faculties to pull over onto the side of the road. Pushing the seat back was all the invitation she needed. Even if it was a bit presumptuous on his part. Just because she was teasing, didn't _actually_ mean she was going to do what he thought she was.

Once his lap was filled with her and her lush lips were twisted deviously and she murmured the lyrics to the song in his ear with lusty intent, **'he monica lewinsky'd all on my gown/oh, there daddy, daddy didn't bring the towel/oh, baby, baby better slow it down,'** he knew he hadn't been presumptuous at all.

Watching her wiggle around, biting down on her lip, as an internal debate raged within her, was the hottest damn thing he'd seen since earlier that night when she did her signature 'paige turner' in the ring, pinning Aksana to win her match. He bit down on his own lip, eyes rolling back, as she palmed him through his boxer-briefs. The heat of her small hand was wonderful and when she dipped it into the slit, the silk skin of hers coming in contact with the rigidity of his, his hips bucked upwards, and she let out a throaty giggle.

"Excited, are we, Mr. Rollins?"

"Don't be a fucking tease."

"Ooooh."

She'd made up her mind and thanks to her flexibility, she was able to remove her own pair of jeans and panties, despite his groaning about wanting to do _that_ himself. She stopped his whining quickly by teasing herself open and then sinking down on his length in one swift motion.

* * *

As their breathing returned to normal and sweat began to cool on their skin, Paige sighed in bliss as Seth peppered the slope of her neck with warm, open-mouthed kisses. She swore she could stay like this forever. Just him kissing her neck, in this car, and _god_ when had she turned into such a sap?

Next they would be holding hands when they walked into the arenas together, like Brie Bella and Daniel Bryan.

A slow bloom of warmth took over her body at the thought. But she quickly dismissed it. Neither of them were necessarily the hand-holding type. Though, now that the thought had entered her mind, she wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. As long as he did it first.

"Did you just pocket my panties?" Paige was brought back to reality, a scandalized look on her face, as she realized the thin black material she was about to reach for was gone.

"Maaaaaaaybe." Seth sing-songed, shit eating grin on his handsome face.

"Why do you men do _that_? It's not like you're going to wear them. And I know," Her eyes grew dark and fierce, narrowing harshly. "You're not going to show off with them in the locker room like they're a championship belt."

"I can give you my boxer-briefs and then we'll be even."

"Ew!" It was uncharacteristically girlish squeal and that made him burst out laughing. She didn't sound unlike most of the divas when there was a spider in the locker room or when they noticed one around the arena.

"You'll get them back," He leaned over, his voice darker than its normal happy tone, his tongue slipping to lick her ear as his teeth nibbled. "You just don't need them _now_. We've got an off day tomorrow, and I plan on taking full advantage of that once we get back to the hotel."

His large palm cupped her through her jeans, emphasizing his point, and her eyes fluttered as she breathed out his name, "Seth."

There was a soft kiss and an affectionate rubbing of noses, making her giggle and shove him away as she mumbled, 'girl move,' before they straightened themselves out.

* * *

What happened next couldn't be helped. There wasn't anything either of them could do. The large mack truck collided with the back of their rental before either of them could feel the impact of the collision.

To them the sounds of the glass shattering or of their screams, didn't register.

There was only silence.

And everything fading to black.

* * *

_note: soundtrack to this chapter 'yonce/partition' by beyonce and aussie kiss is british slang for going down on a girl – credit for it goes to peevish uk, which will be my frequent british slang resource_


	2. Chapter 2

_a/n: thank you so much to wolfgirl2013, ramenreignss and dashingincoverse for reviewing the prologue. i appreciate it so much. no surprise here, but i'm not a doctor, so the doctor's dialogue is taken from the scene in the vow after the accident with some embellishments on my part._

* * *

**~*~chapter one~*~**

_**did you say it? 'i love you. i don't ever want to live without you. you changed my life.' did you say it? make a plan. set a goal. work toward it, but every now and then, look around; drink it in cause this is it. it might all be gone tomorrow.**_

_**meredith grey, grey's anatomy -**_

About a year ago during the European tour MTV UK interviewed Seth, Roman and Dean and asked which one was the most demanding, the party animal and the best with the ladies. Roman happily pointed out that Dean was the one who "always has time for the ladies," and a year later not much has changed. He's still the skirt chaser out of the three, wearing the fan appointed title of 'titty master' more proudly than he probably [definitely] should.

Though, it was still kinda weird being solo in the hotel's bar for the lunatic fringe. He was used to tag-teaming with the powerhouse Samoan. At least until the latter stopped being a pussy about his feelings for Renee Young, the bubbly Canadian journalist who conducted all of the in-ring and backstage interviews for the company.

Seth had always been a lost cause. If he wasn't trying to make some long distance thing work, he was at some cross fit gym working out and instagramming or tweeting about it.

And now the youngest member of their brotherhood had been with Paige for almost two years.

So Dean was scoping alone, his eye on a slim brunette who from the looks of it could give Nikki Bella a run for her money in the breast department, and just as he was about to make his move, Roman's deep voice rumbled from behind him, "You can get laid later. Seth and Paige were in an accident. We gotta roll."

Dean was eerily silent.

When Roman came to tell him about the accident after getting the phone call from the hospital while with Renee in their room, he had prepared himself for a meltdown from the native Ohioan. He figured he'd have to drag him from the bar, which he would be in the middle of destroying. Instead the dirty blonde was quiet. Too quiet. And staring straight at him, an unreadable emotion in his cobalt eyes.

Unlike himself or Seth, Dean hadn't come from the most stable home environment, to say the least. They – himself and Seth – were his family. The only people he cared about. The only people that meant anything to him in a long damn time.

"Is it bad?" The gravel tone Roman had come to know didn't reach his ears. The former United State's Champion sounded small, almost childlike and the big man could feel his heart seize in his chest.

"It's touch and go for Paige right now. She," He swallowed thickly. "Got the worst of it. Went right through the wind shield. Seth's got a wrist in a cast, a neck stinger and mild concussion."

"Fuck," Dean hissed, fingers sifting through his unruly curls. "He's gonna be a wreck until he knows she's okay. We better get over there before they have to sedate him or some crazy shit like that."

* * *

Seth knew he should've been paying more attention to what the doctor was telling him. But his head was pounding violently, even though they had classified his concussion as mild. His vision, thankfully, was no longer blurred around the edges. And the pain in his neck was lessening, the impact of the stinger not nearly as forceful now that he had pain killers working their way through his system.

Honestly, it wasn't the pain of his injuries that had him unfocused. It was the harsh slap of reality that neither he or Paige would be wrestling for awhile. Concussions were serious in and of themselves, whether they were mild or severe and his wrist was in a hard cast that wouldn't be removed for weeks.

_Fuck_, he growled inwardly, jaw setting tight and beginning to twitch.

It was going to be worse for the young Brit, though.

She was still Divas Champion. Having defended her title against Summer Rae the week before as a lead up match to both of their first appearances on TLC in two months. There was nothing like the sparkle in her dark eyes when she would get on the mic and let everyone know she was still going to be holding the butterfly when the match was over. Or the practically giddy smile she'd get as her thumbs quickly typed out twitter messages and captioned instagram videos or pictures.

He still remembered how she had rushed out of the locker room during RAW a few weeks ago, watching from the gorilla area, as he, Dean and Roman made their way out for their match, obviously having noticed the 'Think Again' t-shirt he was wearing over his tactical vest. With the belt slung over her shoulder, she met him just before he vaulted over the barricade and launched herself at him, arms winding around his neck and legs wrapping themselves around his waist.

They didn't let their relationship play-out in front of the cameras the way so many other Superstars and Divas had, but he was happy, in that moment to show his support for his lady and easily gave into her fevered kiss.

"**Mr. Rollins..."** For a brief moment the two-toned Superstar felt like he was back in school, being admonished by a teacher for not paying attention, but then he remembered where he was.

The plain taupe walls of the hallway, the doctor in their scrubs staring at him disapprovingly and the sight of his wrist in a cast, reminding him that he was in the hospital. That he and Paige were in a car accident, and he was supposed to be paying attention as the doctor told him about her condition.

"Sorry," He was appropriately sheepish, ducking his head and looking at the older woman through the thickness of his lashes. "It's..." He let out a rush of air, stroking his beard with his good hand. "Gonna be hard to tell Paige she can't wrestle. She has a really big match coming up. Being in the ring, getting hyped off the crowd, the adrenaline rush, it's what she lives for, you know?"

The doctor blinked, once and then twice. "Mr. Rollins," She tried to keep her voice level, knowing the news she was going to deliver wouldn't be good. "Wrestling, honestly, is the least of things that Miss Bevis has to worry about. Her CT Scans showed hemorrhaging of her brain. She needs to be monitored to assess the damage, meaning she could be staying here in the hospital for at least two more days. Maybe more, depending on what we find after doing further tests."

_Hemorrhaging of her brain. Hemorrhaging of her brain. Hemorrhaging of her brain. Hemorrhaging of her brain._

Over and over that's all he heard. Seth expected Paige's injuries would have been similar to his own. Nothing serious, just a little more than the bumps and bruises that they would get in the ring. Or when they were at the gym helping each other with moves and having matches because they both loved the sport so much.

* * *

The sound of feet rushing across the linoleum floor didn't register, just like Emma's frantic voice, "I-I... I got here as fast as I could. Is she... Have they told you anything? Is she going to be okay?"

"Seth?" He didn't hear his name, and it wasn't because of the soft tone Renee was using as she, Roman and Dean arrived in the hallway. It – brain hemorrhaging – was still all he could hear.

A worried look passed between the platinum blonde and the Samoan. While Dean who was next to him, bounced on the balls of his feet and wrung his hands, unable to stand still, his heart beating fast. He wished he could punch a wall or throw a chair, anything but having to stand here and just stare at how listless the normally energetic two-toned superstar was.

Roman grabbed his wrist, squeezing slightly and hissing through gritted teeth, "Calm the fuck down, man. Seth doesn't need you bouncing off the walls."

"Calm down?" Dean hissed back, eyes narrowed and harsh. "Fucking look at him! He's not moving, Rome, he's just staring off into space! And you want me to calm down?"

"If you can't remain calm, sir," The doctor spoke up, bringing the group's attention back to her. "You'll be asked to leave. Miss Bevis needs to be in a calm environment right now. We still don't know the extent of the damage that was done to her brain from the impact of crashing through the windshield."

"Damage?" Emma's voice quivered, her big eyes starting to water as her body began to shake.

Renee immediately wrapped the Australian in her arms, holding her close and stroking her hair. The bubbly diva curled into the journalist, burying her face in her shoulder and trying not to cry out. Paige was her best friend; the one who made the grind of being a diva a little less hard, who was always there with an encouraging word, a shoulder to cry on and who understood what it was like to be a world away from your family.

Emma wouldn't know what to do if her friend was hurt as badly as it seemed.

* * *

The only time Paige was ever still was when she was asleep. Her skin had always been fair, especially compared to his own [naturally] deep tan. But right now, as Seth looked at her, she was a different type of still – if that made any sense – and her complexion instead of appearing as fine and smooth as porcelain, was sickeningly pale.

He swallowed thickly, taking her limp hand in his left and stroked her wrist.

His jaw was set tight and ticking, his teeth grinding together, as his frustration began to mount. He hated not being able to do anything, that there wasn't something he could do, that he just had to let her lay here like this.

He wanted to scream, to yell at the doctors to fix her because she would _hate_ being like this, still and helpless. Because nothing made her angrier than when she couldn't do for herself or thought someone was helping her because she couldn't do something or was struggling.

She was fiercely independent and damn proud of it, too.

This – laying here in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and whatever – wasn't her.

And if the doctor's voice in his head wouldn't shut up, he was going to throw the chair he was sitting in.

"_We purposefully keep patients with traumatic brain injuries in a comatose state in order to calm their systems, and allow the brain time to heal itself while the swelling subsides. Then we slowly ween them off of it."_

"Hey," Renee's voice was soft and tender, her slender hand touching his shoulder, gently. "I would've brought you coffee, but I think we both know the hospital doesn't have that turbo whatever stuff you drink from Onnit, so I brought you some tea."

Seth didn't want to be rude, so he accepted the steaming beverage, even though he didn't drink it. Luckily, the platinum blonde didn't seem affronted. She just smiled warmly, squeezing his shoulder and bending slightly to wrap her arms around both of his shoulders, her mouth right next to his ear.

She pulled away and handed him a slim silver piece of jewelry too short to be a necklace saying, "I figured you would want this back."

She kissed his cheek, rubbed his back and walked from the room.

Seth bit the inside of his mouth, looking at the silver in his grasp. Jewelry was always a point of contention between them. She wasn't the type to run around in expensive baubles and didn't want him buying her 'fancy shit' for anniversaries or her birthday. She liked her lip ring and the three different rings she would choose from for the piercing in her belly button. She didn't want necklaces or earrings or bracelets.

But this little anklet was different.

After practically being on his hands and knees and resorting to bribery with sex, he got her to give in and she hadn't taken it off since.

He gave it to her just after they were together for six months. He could hear her teasing tone and the smack of the exaggerated kiss she gave him as she pinched his cheek, "You're such a good girlfriend, Seth."

He launched himself at her, spearing her, and pinning her underneath him on the floor as they tumbled from his bed. She kicked him, but he wouldn't budge, not until she hooked her leg around his and flipped them over, so she was on top [her favorite place to be], long hair covering her face, but her victorious smile bright and blinding.

"I'm not your girlfriend." He grumbled while pouting, but he didn't stay disgruntled for long, as she quickly tossed the Hounds of Justice t-shirt she was wearing, away, baring her breasts and toned stomach.

In the end, all that was left on her body, was the anklet.


	3. Chapter 3

**~*~chapter two~*~**

_**pain, you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own, hope the wound that caused it heals. there are no solutions, no easy answers, you just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. most of the time pain can be managed but sometimes the pain gets to you where you least expect it. hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. pain, you just have to fight through, because the truth is you can't out run it and life always makes more.**_

_**meredith grey, grey's anatomy -**_

* * *

Other than the low hum and soft beeps of the monitors and machines Paige was hooked up to, the only other constant sound was the ringing of Seth's cell phone. He knew Hunter and Stephanie weren't patient people [ha!], and that eventually [sooner rather than later] he'd have to face them. He knew they wanted him to at least get back in the ring to cut a promo in the wake of his injury, which by now everyone knew about. Just like they all knew about Paige's.

And if he didn't cut the promo, they were going to throw him into the ring for a one-on-one match that he would lose, which is how he would get his time off to heal.

Either way, he wouldn't be the only one losing. Roman and Dean would as well. They weren't just a group, they were brothers and though they had singles matches and he and Roman held the Tag Team Championship belts for a while and Dean the United States Championship belt, they were stronger together than apart.

Everyone knew Roman was 'the next big thing,' that if The Shield were to ever disband, he would be on his way to being the face of the whole company. The big man, of course, just shrugged his shoulders at the hype machine. Being the next big thing wasn't of any consequence to him. He just wanted to do his job better than he should, to prove that he put in the time and the effort that was necessary to get to the top, that he wasn't getting a push just because of the family he came from.

And Dean wasn't a slouch, either. With Punk having retired, he had the best mic skills in the company. He was unpredictable, strange and had charisma to burn. There wasn't anyone on the roster quite like him. With all that energy being channeled into an intense rage that made it hard for you to take your eyes off of him.

So, until his wrist healed where did that leave him?

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he looked at Paige who was eerily still, laying limp in the hospital bed, not breathing on her own but with the help of machines.

He wasn't just uncertain about his future, he was uncertain about hers as well.

The state of the Diva's Championship was obviously in limbo, and Stephanie wasn't going to sit idly by and let it remain that way. TLC was the next opportunity Paige had to defend her title against Summer Rae. That, obviously, wasn't going to happen now. He knew she'd be devastated when she finally opened her eyes and had to face the truth that she couldn't compete until she was fully healed, which meant giving up the butterfly.

He knew how much that piece of silver hardware meant to her.

It made him sick, knowing she'd have a stiff upper lip and show a strong facade while on the inside she'd be crumbling.

His phone rang again; Hunter's name flashing across the screen and just as he was about to hit ignore, a low groaning noise caught his attention.

The soft, velvet of her lashes fluttered like a humming bird's wings before her lids lifted slowly, revealing the dark eyes he'd come to know as well as the ones that stared back at him in the mirror.

Hitting the alarm by her bed, as the nurse instructed him to do once she woke up, he didn't care if Hunter and Stephanie – fuck, if Vince McMahon himself – showed up.

Paige was awake and that's all that mattered. Finally.

* * *

"Welcome back, Miss Bevis." The voice was even keel, hinting at amusement, but it was one she didn't recognize.

The sight that greeted her, now, fully opened eyes was light.

_Light. _Had she been surrounded by light before? Oddly enough, she couldn't remember. Why was this room so light? Her bedroom was dark, on purpose, despite her mum's joking that she wasn't a vampire and therefore didn't need to sleep in a coffin, surrounded by black on three of the four walls, except for the dark purple on the far right wall. The only color she favored. Because as her arsehole of a brother pointed out, time and time again, black isn't a color, it's a _shade_.

She had the instinct to roll her eyes, but couldn't. Not with the pounding in her skull that was thundering as if Keith Moon of The Who was pounding his bass drum in her ears.

Reaching up to rub her temple, only made the pain worse, and what caught her attention was the bracelet around her wrist – not the leather one with spikes, but the same kind she wore as a kid when she had her appendix removed – which let her know she was in the hospital. But how did she get in the hospital, in the first place?

Again, she couldn't remember.

As she tried jerking the IV out of her arm, a wrist covered in a hard cast stopped her. "I'm not a doctor," The voice was unrecognizable, but it was low and warm, smooth like honey and the chuckle underneath was bright just like the smile that came with it. "But _that_'s not a good idea."

Her brows furrowed down, in confusion, as she stared at the owner of the cast covered wrist. Like his voice he was unrecognizable. His hair was long, she could tell, even though it was tied back in a bun at the nape of his neck. It was also two-toned; the entire left side was a shock of blonde compared to the right which was either very dark brown or black, it was hard to tell. Though, judging from the beard that covered his otherwise boyish face, it was mostly likely very dark brown vs black.

If it wasn't for the boyishness of his face, he'd look like the guys her father was promoting all around England, the bare-knuckle brawler types, trying to capitalize on Wade Barrett's – the best known English wrestler – gimmick as he was currently taking the WWE by storm with the Nexus.

But who was he? And why was he here? Especially since he told her he _wasn't_ a doctor?

Answers would have to wait as the confident clack-clack-clack of high heels captured her attention. Which was a feat, because she felt strange looking away from the two-toned man with his wrist in a cast. She got this feeling, though she couldn't explain _why_, that it took all of her strength to look away from him. That when he was in the room with her, her eyes would automatically find him, no matter the circumstance.

"I would've expected _this_ from Ambrose," Accompanying the confident clack-clack-clack of heels was the low rumbling voice of... her heart sped up and her palms became sweaty, as she recognized the hulking frame of **Triple H** – even though his hair was cropped close to his head, striding powerfully into the room. "Not you, Rollins."

"Hunter and I know this past week," Standing next to Triple H with a surprisingly soft smile on her graceful features was Stephanie McMahon, making her head spin; why were they here?! "Has been more than difficult for you, Seth, and you as well, Paige." The billionaire princess acknowledged her presence, reaching out to pat her hand sympathetically. "But you simply cannot ignore your responsibilities to the company."

"I'm sorry..." Somehow she found her voice, which was raw and scratchy, sounding like it had been out of use for far too long, which didn't make any sense to her. "But..." Her eyes darted between Triple H's sable to Stephan's ice blue and finally on the two-toned man The Game had called 'Rollins.' "Would someone tell me what's going on?"

Panic seized Seth's veins. A panic like he'd never felt before. His throat turned into a vice, as if it was being squeezed by Kane's meaty hands, as the former Big Red Machine got ready to choke slam him. He stared into her eyes, those eyes he knew as well as his own, maybe better and there was nothing; only blankness.

Where a familiar spark of brightness used to be, there was nothing. A hint at cheekiness, like she was up to something, always one step ahead of him even if the was The Architect of The Shield, wasn't there. Just like that unbriedled determination that was always there, whether she was happy or sad, was gone.

She looked at him, teeth sinking into her lip, nervously, like he was a stranger.

He'd been slammed into barricades, curb stomped, choke slammed, taken chair shots, jumped off of titrons, top ropes, flown through the ropes of the ring and _nothing_ was as painful as her looking at him like he was a stranger.

"I'm sorry." The doctor spoke up. "But I'm going to have to ask all of you to step out. I need to examine Miss Bevis."

He wanted to protest, to stand his ground and say he wasn't going to leave her, but he felt like he was going she kept looking at him like _that_, so he had to leave.

And the last thing he wanted was to fucking cry in front of Hunter Hemsley and Stephanie McMahon.

* * *

"This is obviously more serious than you were lead to believe," Stephanie spoke, her voice as cool as ever. "And there's a lot for you and Paige to sort through, so Hunter and I are going to give you all the time you need. You have two choices, Seth, either you shoot the promo with Dean and Roman, effectively putting The Shield on the shelf for the time being or you take the one-on-one match and you lose to whoever we put you up against. You have until the end of the week to decide. It's sad," Stephanie mused, shaking her head. "That this happened to two A+ players such as yourself and Paige, Seth. Your futures were very bright."

He'd never put his hands on a woman, not even one like Stephanie McMahon, but in that moment, Seth wanted to. The smug tone in her voice when she said the word 'were,' as if he and Paige weren't going to come back from this, made his veins burn with anger.

She had a ringside seat to what he could do. After all, it was him who had out witted The Game. Hunter thought he had gotten him to turn on Dean and Roman the next night on RAW after their historic victory over Evolution at Payback, but instead of it being a straight double cross, it had been his plan all along to take out Evolution from the inside. Something he had planned with his brothers, as they decided, it was time to move the company out of the past and into the future.

Just like she had a ringside seat to what Paige was capable of.

Though, she was the youngest Diva's Champion, she was a force to be reckoned with since she set foot in NXT.

A third generation grappler, she knew the ins and the outs of the business better than most veterans. She knew most of the other divas would underestimate her and she used that to her advantage. Like him she was athletic and known for using her opponent's weaknesses to her advantage. She was just as smart and had the same never give up attitude. She had a laser focus and she made sure not to rest on her laurels, training even harder now that she had been Diva's Champion for over a year.

As she told him more than once, if Summer Rae wanted to be Diva's Champion, she was going to pry the silver butterfly out of her cold, dead hands.

But the Paige he knew... _That_ Paige who curled around him at night, who teased him about being sentimental and jokingly called him her girlfriend, wasn't inside the hospital room. No, the Paige that was there was someone who didn't recognize him. At the same time, she was someone he didn't recognize, either.

He sighed heavily, pushing his fingers through his hair, loosening it out of the bun and letting it fall against his shoulders.

* * *

"She's going to be a little groggy, so let's just give her some space," The doctor instructed, her voice far too gentle for Seth to take, as she lead him back into the hospital room.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, you know that?" He spoke softly, as softly as he had when he took care of her after she suffered a concussion during a match with Rosa Mendes a couple months back. "I'm the one who's supposed to scare you, remember? You get so feisty after I come backstage when I jump off the turnbuckle or do a flip dive and bowl through two or three Superstars at a time. You always hit me and then grab my face and tell me not to mess it up cause I'm such a pretty boy."

"I do?" Those two simple words hit him like an unsuspecting chair shot square in the back. Or when Hunter's infamous sledgehammer was swung into his gut a little over a year ago.

She looked so small in that bed, her skin more sickly pale than its warm porcelain that was such a gorgeous contrast to his own deep tan. She looked every bit the twenty three year old she was, a world away from home and her family, not aware of the new one she had made here. Or the life they had together. How she'd jump on his back as soon as they piled out of the car they rented and he'd give her a piggy back ride through whichever arena they were in. How sometimes she wouldn't change in the Diva's locker room, but in the locker room he shared with Roman and Dean. How after matches, they'd shower together, her voice bright and bursting with giggles as she teased him about using a loofah and how he was going to smell like her, fresh lilies and just a hint of licorice.

And when they would come out of the shower, as revenge, he'd shake out his hair like a dog, splattering her, as she shrieked and would try to whack him with her towel.

He'd get her first, fingers sinking into the freshly scrubbed skin of her hips, and tickling mercilessly until they fell into a heap, laughing so loud that Dean would yell, "Fucking pipe down, ya weirdos! It's a freaking locker room not your house! Go tickle each other to death or whatever freaky stuff you're into, there! Jesus!"

He knew he shouldn't ask this question, it was obvious what the answer was, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Y-you... Know..." He sucked in a deep breath, letting out from his nose. He felt like he did when he was first trying to ask her out, like his brain was going in five different directions and his mouth couldn't keep up. He even stuttered, making her laugh.

"Y-you k-n-know," He regrouped. "Who I am, don't you?"

"You... You're..." Her eyes darted from her doctor and back to him, tears shimmering, as she struggled behind a rising sob in her throat. "No," She answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know who you are."


End file.
